


Tumblr Posts: Quinn (Leverage)

by wibblywobblymess



Category: Leverage
Genre: <3, because i love quinn and he needs more love, emma maya and fiona are all OCs, just so you know, seriously this is just a bunch of drabbles & oneshots I wrote around quinn, the first three i think are OCs, they were easier to write that way when i did those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 03:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12472072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblymess/pseuds/wibblywobblymess
Summary: I love Leverage. I love Quinn. And while all my filled requests surrounding Leverage & Quinn arehere, this is just the ones I wrote without being asked, without prompts or requests. Just. Quinn. ^_^Just like my other Tumblr posts, each chapter will be a different story, and this will always be marked COMPLETE, but I'll add chapters as I write new ones. :) <3





	1. I Told You

               Things were so quiet in the apartment, it made Emma fidget, fingers twitching in her lap. The light of the candle on the table was, currently, the only light in the apartment, the power having gone out from the storm raging outside, and as willing as she typically was to just…sit…and stare…or read…she just didn’t have the urge, the energy, to do any of it.

               So with a huff, she leaned over, puffing out the candle, and grabbed her phone, shuffling towards the kitchen to dig out her phone’s battery pack, so she could at least keep it charged. With one more glance around the dark apartment, Emma moved into the bedroom, and curled up on her pillow, blanket pulled tight around her shoulders. It wasn’t late, certainly not late enough for her to  _need_  to go to bed, but with no other options other than a slow descent into madness – and as fun as  _that_  sounded…. – she snuggled down, eyes barely cracked, to watch the storm beat against the windows.

               She hadn’t gotten anywhere near falling asleep, despite her hopes, when she heard a soft rustling across the room. Emma twitched under her blankets, eyes flickering but head not moving, before she heard it again, this time with a soft thump.

“You are not being stealth.” The snorted laugh from behind her made her smile, before she felt the bed depress, and the blanket shift, until the chilly body curled up behind her. “Holy, Jesus, Mother of Fuck, you are  _cold_!” Emma exclaimed, wriggling as he laughed, and grabbed her tighter, holding her back.

“And you are warm, so  _stop wriggling_.”

“No, oh, my god, I was warm because I haven’t been outside,  _Jesus_ ,” she hissed, grunting as he yanked her back against his chest, and pressed his nose into her hair. “What is the matter with you?” He huffed into Emma’s hair, snuggling against her, and shrugged.

“I’m cold, Em. I could have just gotten into bed with my soaking clothes on, but, figured you’d probably try to hit me or something stupid,” he commented, as she rolled her eyes, but reached down for his freezing hand.

“You throw punches. I throw insults. Okay? Just…shit, you are really cold,” Emma mumbled, finally giving in and wriggling back against him. His hand fit between hers, as she rubbed it to warm it up, a smile curling her lips at his contended hum. “Power’s out, or I’d turn on the heater.”

“You are the heater. Just gimme a few,” he huffed, and she rolled her eyes again, before twisting to face him, brow quirked. “…what?”

“Haven’t seen you in two weeks. Just kind of looking,” Emma answered, still rubbing his hand, until he shifted to take that hand back and hold out his other hand. “And if you think the lack of power and light keep that bandage on your forehead invisible, you haven’t been paying attention.”

“I’m fine, Em,” he replied, before she could ask.

“Quinn, you have a bandaid on your forehead.”

“I have had a lot of bandages on a lot of places. Lots of scars. Sort of comes with the work.” She scoffed, warming his hand, before she squawked as the hand that she’d just warmed slipped between her thighs.

“Quinn!”

“I ain’t comin’ onto you, Emma, it’s just warm here,” Quinn snickered, wiggling his fingers as she twitched.

“Stop that,” she laughed softly, crossing her feet and squeezing her thighs against his hand. “Either keep still or I’m kickin’ you outta this bed.” Quinn smirked, curling forward as Emma rubbed his other hand.

“You think you can do that?” he murmured, close enough that his warm breath brushed across her face. Emma flushed in the dark, grateful that he couldn’t see it, and blew out a puff of air, smirking.

“If I asked you outta this bed, you’d go. Don’t lie to me.” He shrugged, because technically he had to give her that one, but he didn’t have to  _say_ it.

               So the two of them laid in the darkness, listening to the storm, as she warmed his hands, before rubbing her hands together, and reaching up to hold her palm over his nose, startling him when he realized what she was doing. She laughed as he jerked back, before his nose butted into her palm.

“Gotta warn me, I’ve got my guard down,” he admitted, smiling a bit as her free hand scratched against his chest.

“And that is fine, like I’m stupid enough to try to take you down,  _especially_  if you’re awake, Quinn, c’mon,” Emma huffed, blushing again as he shifted his hand enough to rub his thumb over her thigh.

“At least you’re learnin’,” he replied, as she chuckled. Emma cocked her head against her pillow to look at him, free hand reaching out to brush through his hair, as she smiled softly. “What?”

“Two weeks, Quinn, ‘member?” she pointed out, but when he huffed this time, Emma could hear the smile was gone, and it made her frown.

“This is what I do, Em, I told you that. You gotta…you gotta stop bein’ so…” He shook his head, like he was trying to find a word that wasn’t going to  _suck_ , but Emma knew that sentence only had bad endings, and she pulled her hands back, flinching violently when the entire apartment lit up.

“Jesus Christ,” she growled, rolling away from him and shielding her eyes.

“Power’s back on.”

“Yes,  _thank you_ , Quinn,” Emma snapped, moving towards the door and slamming her palm into the light switch to plunge the bedroom back into darkness. Quinn sat up at the sharp edge to her voice, frown on his lips, before he climbed out of the bed, and followed.

               The sight of Emma in the other room turning off the lights that were blazing, would have been just a normal thing, if he didn’t see her free hand balled up at her side the entire time, like she was trying to fight off the urge to start punching the lights. Sighing, Quinn crossed the room, catching her by the hips before she could pass the couch, and shoving her onto the back of it as she squealed, and shoved her fist into his chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, frowning. Quinn studied her face, before he frowned.

“Emma. I told you not to fall in love with me,” Quinn reminded her, and the confusion on her face was gone, replaced with frustration as she shoved at his chest.

“Yes, Quinn. I know. And I fucked up, didn’t I?” she answered, struggling to sound angry, but instead, it was clear how sad she sounded. He could  _feel_  it, the sound of her voice, but she shook her head, glancing down. “I fucked up, okay, fine. I fell in love, Quinn, so  _what_? What, you think that makes me needy?”

               He might have been the observant one, but he should have known she’d have caught that, yeah, that was what he was going to say in the bedroom. And he shook his head, hands dropping to her knees.

“I didn’t mean that, okay? I didn’t  _think_  about it, I was just…rambling.” She frowned, head cocked. “I know. Not what I do. Which is why I  _like_ being here, because  _here_  I don’t have to be prepared for  _every possibility_ , I can relax. And you usually know, you usually know when I’m not thinking first,” he pointed out, making her sigh, and rub her hands over her face.

“Yeah, I know. But  _needy_ , Quinn. Needy is a shitty thing to call me.” Quinn tilted his head to see her, thumb light over her thigh, as she shook her head.

“How long?” Emma didn’t need to ask for clarification on that, knowing exactly what he was asking her.

“…two years?”

               Emma had been in love with him for two years, and they’d only known each other two and a half. Yeah, that was absolutely startling, but before he could reply, she lifted her head, and put up her hands.

“And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to stop coming around. Okay? Nothing had to change. I take what I can get, I have always taken whatever you’ll give me. You should have  _terrified_  me, scared me right out of any thought to liking you, when I walked in that day to find you in the bathroom covered in blood. When you threatened me if anyone found out. And you didn’t. Honestly, I still have no idea how we ended up  _here_ …but I like  _here_ , Quinn. I got used to the midnight visits so I could help stitch you up, and the months without seeing you, and a-and everything else…and I fell in love.”

               God, she looked so defeated, it broke Quinn’s heart, and he shook his head, brow furrowed in concentration as he lifted his hands, desperate for her to understand that, yeah, he’d told her not to fall in love with him, but  _fuck_  he’d gone and fallen in love with her too. How could he not? This seemingly straight-laced,  _normal_  woman didn’t call the cops, didn’t run, didn’t  _move_ , she stayed in the same apartment he initially broke into, the first place he threatened her, and he didn’t  _scare_  her, not once, regardless of what he’d tried. She had always just chuckled, and rolled her eyes, and flicked his forehead, before getting him a beer, or, as things progressed, wriggling into his lap. Fuck, he couldn’t argue that she seemed to enjoy it a little bit more than he expected when he pulled his gun on her (never loaded. Not with her.).

Emma’s eyes squeezed shut as he slid both palms across her face, until he had his fingers hooked around the back of her head in her hair, his thumbs on her cheeks. After a few seconds of silence, she sniffled, and opened her eyes to see him.

               The harsh intake of breath was all she got before his lips were pressed roughly over hers so perfectly that she’d parted her lips to meet him, her hands grasping firmly at his sides, his body shifting between her thighs to press in close to her.

               The lights could wait. The conversations could wait. Everything could wait, when Quinn moved his hands from her face to hoist her off the couch, and haul her back into the bedroom, foot kicking the door shut behind them.


	2. It's Halloween, not a horror movie.

              Halloween was the  _shit_. Like, the best holiday of the year. Candy, drinking, costumes, parties, the right to scare kids (come on, admit it, that was fun), no requirements to hang out with family. It was the best holiday  _ever_.

               Fiona twirled a little in the bathroom, trying to look at the back of her dress, pausing at the sound of a soft thump in the other room.

“Hello?” she called, but when no answer came, she huffed, brushing it off as to the loud neighbors upstairs, before turning back to the mirror, lifting her lipliner to start applying the makeup.

When another thump sounded, she huffed, leaning forward and ducking her head to tap at her phone until she started playing music to fill the otherwise silent apartment. Normally she loved the silence, but when she was trying to focus, she couldn’t without some kind of background noise. Lifting her head, Fiona pressed the tip of the liner to her lip, outlining her lips before putting it down, and covering her lips in the black coloring. Humming along to the music, she popped open the medicine chest, setting the lipstick on the shelf, and the liner next to it. When she snapped the door shut, her eyes shot to the reflection of the door behind her, a place that was no longer empty.

“Calling out  _hello_  to an empty apartment is the stupid shit they do in horror movies, Fi, you do know that.” She snorted, ducking her head, and rolled her eyes as she dug into her makeup bag.

“Just because it’s Halloween does not mean I’m in a horror movie, Quinn. Not unless you’re here to kill me, and if that’s the case, gimme til after the party, okay?” she asked, smirking as he quirked a brow.

“Well…you don’t look like an angel, despite the white dress, and the wings I saw on the couch.”

“Wings are not for me, they are for a friend at the party. I’m going as a  _ghost_ , I just need to finish my makeup. How long are you back for?” she asked, eyes shifting towards him before going back to her reflection as he pushed off the doorframe. Fi fought the urge to whimper when his hands slid around her waist, and his lips pressed against the bare part of her shoulder, eyes focused on her in the mirror.

“Few days. Halloween party?”

“Mmhmm,” she replied, powdering her face, before applying the dark makeup beneath her eyes. “Wanna come?” Quinn scoffed, making Fi chuckle, knowing the answer before she’d even asked the question.

“You don’t seem as excited to see me as I expected,” he admitted, lips moving up to the other side of her dress strap at the crook of her neck. Fiona’s hand trembled, just a little, as she tucked her makeup back into the bag, and she shrugged.

“How excited should I be? Squeals? Jumping up and down?” she asked.

Quinn sighed, resting his chin on her shoulder. She wasn’t putting on makeup, or avoiding looking at him, now. They were staring at each other through the mirror, his hands firm and warm over her stomach, before he finally twitched, brow going up.

“You jealous of her?”

“I’m not jealous, I just didn’t like the bitch,” Fiona insisted, though he knew it was a lie. He’d seen it, when he left on the job four months earlier with the woman that was hiring him, the jealous look that flashed across Fiona’s eyes.

“First, she paid me  _very_  well for this job.”

“Yay,” Fiona replied, voice flat, and Quinn couldn’t help but laugh, sealing his lips to her shoulder again.

“In case you forgot, Fi, that money doesn’t all go into my a-“

“No, Quinn, I didn’t forget. And I am, honestly, grateful that you insist on paying my bills for me,” Fi replied, and this time, she sounded it, nodding her head as she looked at him through the mirror.

“Okay, then. Second. She  _only_  paid me for the job. Third. It’s been  _four months_ , Fi.”

               She blinked a few times, before turning, butt bumping back against the sink, as she moved her fingers around his tie. They were silent, Quinn shifting back just enough to give her a little room, her fingers sliding up to loosen the knot, before she lifted her eyes, tugging at his tie.

“A really long four months, I fuckin’ missed you,” Fi finally caved, as Quinn followed the pull of his tie until he was close enough to capture her lips against his own. He had to pull back and chuckle as she wiggled against the sink, his eyes meeting hers.

“What’s with the wiggle?”

“I can wiggle, asshole. I missed you. I’m also a fan of this,” Fiona added, fingers moving up to scratch through his longer hair.

“Yeah?” he asked, curious, as Fi nodded, tugging at his hair just a little. “Hey.”

“Don’t  _hey_  me. It’s been  _four months_ , you had shorter hair when you left.” He huffed, rolling his eyes.

“It’s only a couple inches.” Fi quirked a brow, tugging his hair again, before letting her hands drop between them again.

“You sure you don’t wanna come to the party?” she asked, as her phone started to buzz. He knew she wanted him to come, knew it was because he’d just gotten back, but as much he liked her enjoyment of Halloween, he really wasn’t as big on the going out and doing things part of it, like she was. So Quinn shook his head, hand brushing her side.

“You go, have fun. I’m here a few days.”

               Fi nodded slowly, tapping at her phone after picking it up off the sink. He watched her pull her black lip between her teeth as she typed, before she hit the button, and put her phone down, twisting to face the mirror again.

“Your teeth are gonna be black.” Fi laughed, shaking her head as she reached into the medicine chest.

“Nope. This is  _the best_  lipstick on the planet. Does not smudge, does not smear, does not rub off. I could rub my face all over this dress, and all the color stays on my lips,” Fi told him with a snicker, smiling as he chuckled, pressing the sound into her shoulder. It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t talking, and he lifted his eyes, watching as she wiped off the powder, and the eyeshadow.

“What’re you doin’?”

“There are always other parties,” Fi told him, shifting to toss the wet wipe into the garbage. “I haven’t seen you in four months…”

“Fi, I said go have fun.” Her hand fell to the hand he was pressing against her hip, her head cocking a little to open her neck a bit.

“Yes, yes you did. You know what’s more fun for me than getting hammered in costume?”

“…what?”

“You. It’s still early enough, and I’m off this weekend, and you’re here at least a couple of days. So you can take me…into the other room…and show me that you missed  _me_  as much as I missed you.”

               Quinn slid his hands around her back, tugging the zipper down, and pushed it off her shoulders, nipping and kissing along her skin as he exposed more of it, his hands warm across her back as she bit her lip. As soon as the dress hit the floor, Fi turned, curling her hand around the tie, smirking.

“This way, Mr. Quinn.”

“Hmm…yes ma’am,” he purred, following her into the bedroom.

               As they curled up on the bed, her body tucked into his side, head on his chest and arm across his waist, she could feel him shifting, his arms lifting and lowering, several times until she kissed his chest and poked his side.

“Whad’r’you doin’?” she mumbled into his skin.

“Just lookin’. You’re right, that is good lipstick. Not a single black smudge on my skin.” Fi laughed into his chest, hooking her leg over his.

“I told you. Now hush up and go to sleep, Quinn…we’ll test it again in the morning.” His chest shook with a laugh, breath warm in her hair, as she snuggled in against him. “Hey…Quinn?”

“I thought you said sleep.” Fi snickered, poking him again. “What’s up, gorgeous?” Fi debated on the words, the weight of them heavy and loose with sleep, but instead of letting them out, those words that could make or break everything, Fi shook her head, kissing his side.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Quinn knew what she wanted to say, even if she was struggling to say it to him, and he squeezed her, hand curled over her shoulder as he kissed the top of her head.

“I’m glad you let me be here, Fi.”

“…always,” she murmured. Well, it wasn’t the words he knew she was trying to work up the courage to say, but hell if it didn’t care just as much weight for him. He smiled, and nestled his lips into her hair, letting his eyes fall shut in the one place he’d felt like he could get comfortable and feel some kind of safe in a very, very long time.


	3. You don't scare me.

 

               Jobs could be three days, or three months, or, on one memorable and very shitty occasion, three years. Quinn learned very quickly which jobs were going to take too long to be safe enough to actually complete – after all, the point of the job was to get paid, not fucking murdered. At least, for  _him_  not to get murdered, other people, whatever. Of course, if the pay was high enough, most of the time he didn’t care how long he was away.

               This job lasted six months. The pay was good (well, good for him – phenomenal for people outside of his line of work), considering he really only worked three months, and then lied low for the other three, so he could get back without getting arrested in fifteen seconds.

He pulled down the alley between the tall brick buildings, parking in the lot behind it, and reached up, tugging his hair out of the ponytail so he could scratch his fingers through. Six months meant his average length hair was much longer, now, and he knew Maya would be surprised by that, considering she hadn’t seen him once in six months – video calls and pictures were too risky, especially when he was trying to fly under the radar.

An  _out of order_  sign hung on the elevator as he pushed in the front doors of the building, and he huffed, glancing to the stairs. At least the apartment wasn’t at the top of the building – as much as Quinn was able to make that climb, he just wanted to be  _done_  and in the apartment. Reaching the top of the steps, he started for the door, barely popping it open when he heard voices, and paused, knowing the tone. Police. Huffing, he looked around, cautiously peering out into the hall. Three officers, standing near the pried-open elevator doors, none of them looking at him. The apartment was closest to the elevator, and he glanced around, darting down the hall before they saw him.

At the end of the hall was a window, one that opened out onto a fire escape. He made his way out, as quietly as he could considering it was rickety and about as old as the damn building, before making his way to the next escape, and the next, where a window was propped open. Peering through the opened window, Quinn smiled, slipping inside, feet hitting the hardwood with a low  _thump_.

As normal as it was for his entrances to be unheard, or to be heard and greeted with a  _“Hello_?”, to be heard and greeted with an  _“Oh Jesus fuck_ ,” that was not so normal, and it made him frown, looking around as he followed the frantic voice.

“Maya?” A loud clatter sounded in the kitchen, the sound of a dish toppling into the sink, before she appeared in the doorway, startled, panicked, and clutching a rolling pin. “Jesus, Maya, what’re you doin?” he asked, frowning.

“…Quinn?!” she hissed, turning to put the pin down, before darting forward, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, hey, easy, it’s just me, what’s with the rolling pin?” he asked, one hand secure around her waist, the other running down her hair

“Fucking  _assholes_ , guy broke in, I don’t know what the  _fuck_  happened,” Maya gasped, clinging to him, and Quinn’s grasp tightened on her, anger warming his skin.

“Is that why there’s cops outside?” She nodded quickly, sniffling.

“And the e-elevator is down…it m-malfunctioned, he t-tried to use it to get out, and the d-doors opened but there was no box…he, he didn’t look.” Quinn huffed, scratching his fingers through her hair.

“Good.” Maya shook her head, eyes shut as she buried her face in his shoulder. “What?”

“You are…a hired man, you will do  _whatever_  to get paid, which I know includes a lot of death,” Maya said, voice muffled by his shirt even if she wasn’t talking quietly anyways. “And as m-much as you pretend, I have absolutely…s-seen some of your weapons, and I’ve seen every scar on your body, and I’ve seen you angry, and you…don’t scare me.”

               Quinn was careful, pulling back to see her as she wiped a hand over her face, sniffling and glancing towards the door.

“…that guy…one gangly…fucker…with a knife…breaks in…that scared me.”

“It wasn’t  _me_ , Maya, you know I won’t hurt you.” She lifted her eyes to his, like she was trying to focus, trying to understand, and he sighed, cupping her face to hold her still.

“You are a million times more dangerous…and I’m not scared  _here_. I feel safe…I…I feel so fucking stupid for being scared of  _him_ , but I was fucking terrified that…that I wasn’t going to see you again.”

               Shaking his head quickly, Quinn ducked in, dusting a light kiss to her lips, before pulling her in again, her hands falling this time and curling around his waist, beneath his jacket as he pulled her in by her shoulders, and ran his hand over her hair again.

“I’m right here, Maya, alright? Job’s done. Fuck  _every other job_ , I am stayin’…right here. Because I  _am_  scarier than any dick that breaks in here,” he promised her, and as serious as he was, the soft chuckle she couldn’t fight made him smile into her hair. “…unless the cops knock on the door, then you haven’t see me.” That made her laugh, a real sound puffed into his jacket, as she rolled her eyes and sniffled.

“As always.” Maya leaned into him, still sniffling, trying to clear herself and her nerves, and he felt her shift her head on his shoulder. “…huh.”

“What?” Maya shrugged, fingers flexing against his back.

“…you’re kinda sexy with long hair.” Quinn grinned, squeezing her a little tighter.

“Hey, I’m comforting you first. You can flirt later.” She huffed.

“Oh no. I’m distraught. You need to flirt with me before anything outside of comforting me happens.” Quinn snickered, kissing her temple.

“Deal, darling.” 


	4. Promise.

              As comfortable as the bed was, as you woke up, you hated lying in it at all. Because you knew lying in it wasn’t for fun, it was so you could recover. The wound in your side was still throbbing, but lord, not like it had been before, but you were ready for it to stop, now, any time. You snuffled, softly, eyes opening slowly to let the soft light of the room in.

               Quinn was sitting in a chair pulled up to the side of the bed, hunched forward, and even though his hair was pulled back, some of it had slipped out, falling in his face as he mumbled softly, reading out the book he had in front of him. With a huff of breath, he reached up, shoving his hair back off is face, pulling an exhausted smile to your lips as your hand twitched.

“Usually doctors wear scrubs.” His head lifted quickly, eyes wide, and, after quickly tossing the book to the end of the bed, Quinn yanked his chair further up the bed, reaching out to brush his fingers lightly across your forehead.

“Bout time you woke up, darlin’, I was this close to callin’ in the other guns and takin’ you to a doctor.” You huffed a soft laugh, shaking your head as you curled your fingers around his hand as it rested on the bed.

“Please. It’s a stab wound, not a gunshot. I’m fine, just sore and tired,” you promised, shifting and hissing as he grumbled.

“Stop movin’, or I’m takin’ you anyways.”

“I won’t let you,” you answered, shaking your head. “Besides, I gotta  _shift_ , my ass is numb.”

The laugh that puffed passed his lips was faint, and you knew, even if he was trying to play tough guy, strong guy, unfazed, he was absolutely worried about you. With a very soft sigh, seeing his eyes drop from your face, his hand tug up your shirt so he could check out the wound, you moved your hand up, fingers gentle through his hair. It stopped him, pulled his gaze back up to yours, as you curled your fingers into his hair, and tugged, just a little. With a soft growl, Quinn shifted closer, frowning.

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine,” you promised, lifting your eyes to watch your fingers comb through his messy locks again. “I just need some aspirin, and some rest.”

“And a bandage change,” he added, shaking his head.

“Fine, and a bandage change. But not right this second,” you agreed, sniffling a little, and tugging at his hair once more.

               The situation had never mattered, you knew what pulling on his hair did, and regardless of what it did to him, you did it, sometimes, just to make sure he was paying attention. This time, though, you tugged again, watched his eyes flutter just a little as he placed his hands on the bed on either side of you, knee pressing into the mattress as he climbed up beside you.

“What’re you doin’, darlin’?” he drawled softly, leaning in close, scanning your eyes.

“…making sure you’re listenin’, Quinn,” you answered, other hand coming up to cup his face. “I hurt but I’m fine.”

“You need more rest, then, Y/N,” he insisted, furrowing his brow just a little as you huffed.

“Yeah…I do…two things.”

“Hm?”

“Stay  _in bed_  with me, you don’t need to hover in the chair. You won’t break me.” His breath was warm on your cheek as he chuckled, ducking his head, loose hair falling in your face as he nodded. You shifted just slightly, hands combing back through his hair again.

“Alright. And two?”

You tugged his hair, until he looked up, and you drew him in, sealing your lips against his as he leaned in. Keeping one hand in his hair, you slid the other down to cup against his jaw, his scruff scratching at your palm and pulling a smile to your lips. The clutch of your fingers in his hair made him groan, and press in, lips sliding away from yours until he latched onto your throat, and god you loved the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, the way his scruff left your skin red as a reminder. It made you whimper, the hand that you had on his jaw curling around his shoulders, fingers grasping at the back of his tank top as you held him close.

With a nip to your shoulder, you felt him pull back, panting softly, bumping his forehead against your temple.

“You’re a menace,” he mumbled, smirking as you laughed, and rolled your eyes.

“You like it, don’t lie,” you answered, lips brushing his cheek. “Lay with me?”

               Quinn studied your face for a few seconds, moving a hand to cup your jaw, to rub his thumb across your cheek, before he sighed, and nodded.

“Let me change the bandage…then I’ll lie with you, Y/N. Promise.”

With a quick kiss, he was up, grabbing the supplies, but the second he was back, he had your shirt up again, quickly and carefully changing the dressing on your side. Your hand went back up to his hair, but not like before. This was light, and gentle, mostly your palm across his head to keep his hair out of his face. But he leaned into the touch, he always did, electing to simply drop the supplies to the floor before climbing over you, and curling up against your good side.

“Get some rest, beautiful.”

“Promise,” you replied, nestling into the pillow and letting your eyes fall shut, smiling softly at the feeling of his fingers lacing with yours.


	5. Taking Care

     You shook your head a little, rubbing at the back of your neck as you stirred the pot on the stove. The fire under it wasn’t up too high, just enough to warm the soup, as you listened to the music playing from the radio.

“I’m fucking  _dying_ , here,” Quinn groaned, just loud enough for you to hear from the other room. “Can we  _at least_  shut this shit off?” You snorted, rolling your eyes, and set the spoon down so it hung over the sink, before heading into the bedroom to see him.

“You are not dyin’.”

“The fuck I’m not,” he grumbled, and you shook your head.

“Quinn, let it go. The music is fine, and I’m almost done,” you replied, pushing off the door and going back to the kitchen. He groaned again, the sound so deep and achy, that you did feel a little bad, but you didn’t go back, not just yet.

               Instead, as he moaned and groaned, you flipped off the fire, and served up a bowl of the soup from the pan, grasping a bottle of water and a sleeve of crackers, before heading back to the bedroom, setting all three things down on the night table.

“How’re you feeling?”

“ _I’m still fuckin’ dyin’_ ,” he growled, making you chuckle as you sat down on the edge of the bed, his cheek pressed into the pillow. You sighed, tucking your leg underneath your body, as you leaned forward to look at him.

“You are  _not_  dyin’, Quinn.”

“How the fuck do you know?”

“Because you have a stomach bug, you fuckin’ infant. I brought you soup, you should eat.” He groaned, swatting a bit at you, and curling up in your direction, arms over his stomach.

“No, no more food.”

               It was so pathetic, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh on your lips as you reached up, fingers light as you combed them through his messy hair. He felt warm, part of which was the flu, and it made you feel bad, as you shifted a little closer, and leaned down, lips light on his temple.

“Tell you what…eat a couple crackers…drink a little water…I will change the music…and then I’ll lie down with you, okay?” you asked softly, smiling just a little as his hand landed across your lap. “Please?”

“I’m  _dyin’_ ,” he groaned, making you chuckle.

“Two crackers. One drink. I will be right back.”

               For a rough and tumble kind of a guy, a guy who disappeared for weeks and months on missions that tended to end up with a lot of people being hurt and/or killed, and with him having his ass kicked all over the place, the stomach flu was knocking him on his ass and turning him into a child. It was adorable, and pathetic, and just reminded you, as you went to put a lid on the pot and come back. He was sitting up, just enough to eat half a cracker and take a sip of water as you watched from the doorway. His hair was ragged and wild, messy around your face, and you couldn’t help but duck your head as you turned the music to something he preferred, before you moved back to the bed.

“Thank you,” you said softly, ducking your head, and pressing a kiss to his forehead, fingers gentle as they combed through his hair.

“How the hell do you have a good handle on this?” he huffed, sliding back down into the bed, head leaning into your hand.

“Because I have been taking care of your beaten ass for a long time, Quinn, and as capable as you are, it is  _nice_  to be taken care of, isn’t it,” you told him, knowing it wasn’t a question, and despite the huff, he pressed his hand against yours as it rested on his cheek.

               Shifting just a little, you climbed onto the bed beside him, laying on your back as he rolled towards you and curled into your side, head nestled against your chest.

“I’m lucky, havin’ you.” You couldn’t help snickering, kissing the top of his head.

“You’re sick, you ain’t gonna talk like this tomorrow.” He frowned, tilting his head, as your hand slid to the back of his head, scratching through his hair.  

“Course I am, Y/N.” You looked at him, lip between your teeth, as he sighed, and hugged you, head resting on your chest again. “Or I should. Loved you long enough.”

               Well, shit. Nothing was ever going to top hearing  _those_  words come out of his mouth, as you played with his hair, and hugged him back gently.

“Love you too, Quinn…”

“I would hope so.” You chuckled.

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

“I ain’t ruinin’ anything. I’m dyin’, but I still love you.” You snuggled into him, burying your lips in his hair.

“I love you too…now try to sleep, okay? I ain’t going anywhere.” He nestled into your side, fingers curled in your shirt, humming contentedly at the feeling of your hands in his hair.


	6. I've corrupted you.

 

               The gunfire was so loud, you were tempted to just curl up in the corner and cover your ears. But you forced yourself not to, carefully opening the door of the room you were in, flinching as the sound got louder in a second. Gunfire all sounded the same to you, with very few exceptions, but as you peered out through the door, you could see there were at least two guys firing at one guy. Seemed a bit unfair.

               You knew the guy being shot at, you knew it was Quinn downstairs, and you had an idea of where downstairs he was, based on the guy across the walkway from the room you were in, based on where he was shooting.

               This was all your fault, really. You just wanted a normal day, you just wanted to go out and do  _something_ , considering Quinn had to push back all plans, stuck on a fucking flight delay.

               Actually, come to think of it, you could absolutely blame this on Quinn. And you probably would, if you made it out. The gunfire went silent, and you glanced up, watching the guy opposite you drop his empty clip, and snap a new on into his gun, something you presumed the others were doing as the gunfire started up again.

               With a huff, you moved back into the room, ignoring the ache in your back, the light throb at the base of your skull, the burns on your arms and shins, and the pain in your leg that you were pretty sure was worse that you were allowing yourself to believe. The room was near bare, a chair in the middle of it, the chair you’d been tied to for two days, and a utensil table that only had a hammer on it beside it.

               You were so quiet, creeping around the walkway, focused on the guy opposite you, the guy who had been in the room with you until the first gunshot sounded. Dumb fucker was so startled, he grabbed his gun and booked it, not considering locking the door behind him to lock you in, too busy trying to figure out why there was shooting. You hesitated, as he ducked behind a crate, your eyes flickering to see downstairs. It wasn’t like you could go to the edge, peer down to see Quinn, see how many guys there really were – that would get you shot in a heartbeat. So you looked from where you stood, able to just barely see Quinn, before you continued across the walkway.

               Quinn hunkered down behind a few palettes of shit on the bottom floor, wiping a hand across his face, reloading his gun. He was literally one guy up against two, this should have taken ten seconds. But they had you. The motherfuckers saw their chance when his flight got delayed, and they took  _you_ , and he had to shake things out of his head, now, he had to put on his game face, his work-mind, he had to fucking  _focus_ , because if you got hurt, he wasn’t gonna stop at just shooting these guys.

               With a sharp breath, Quinn twisted, gun extending along the edge of the palette, and he pulled off one shot, taking down the guy across the floor from him. Ugh. Finally. It took him a second to realize there was no other gunfire, but he lifted his eyes, watching the landing, knowing the other fucker had been up there taking aim before.

               It took no time for him to see a hand dangling over the edge, and when he didn’t hear gunfire and didn’t see anyone else, Quinn carefully made it to the stairs, bounding up them with his gun in his hand, eyes open as he looked around.

“…tell me you killed ‘im.”

               He spun, gun aimed, until he realized it was you talking. You, leaning against the wall around the walkway, where the other guy was. You, barely holding a hammer in your fingers, hands and arms and chest and face splattered with blood. He lowered the gun, startled, moving around quickly towards you, eyes dropping to the absolutely  _wrecked_  guy between crates.

“…alright…gimme the hammer,” he insisted, tucking his gun into the band of the back of his jeans before reaching out for the hammer. “Yeah, I killed him, but, uh…not  _this_  spectacularly,” he replied, looking at the hammer, before looking at you. “…kinda wish I had, though.” You knew he was seeing the dark bruise forming around your eye, the split lip.

               Huffing, you pushed off the wall, flinching as you limped towards him. The hammer was forgotten on the crate as he lunged forward, arms looping around your waist, and you whimpered, throwing your shaking arms around his shoulders.

“Next time your flight is delayed, I’m barricading myself in the damn apartment,” you grumbled, burying your face in his neck as he chuckled.

“Baby, next time my flight is delayed, I’ll just take another flight…or fucking drive home,” Quinn promised, pulling back a little bit to hook his arm under your legs, and haul you up. “Threshold?”

“No fucking hospitals. I’ll stitch myself up, it’s fine, I am not explaining how I just crushed a guy’s skull in with a hammer,” you huffed, forehead resting on his temple. Quinn chuckled again at that, carefully getting you down the steps, and heading out to the car with you.

“First, we’re gonna have to talk about you, who thumps around the apartment like a Clydesdale, managed to sneak up on a killer and bash him with a damn hammer.” You shifted, reaching out to open the door, curling into him as he lowered you into the passenger seat.

“I’m sensing a second.”

“Second. I have fucking  _corrupted_  you, because you haven’t flinched since I got up there, and I’m pretty there’s some brain matter on you.” You blinked, tilting your head to see him, and reaching up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“The motherfucker punched me in the face, and stuck an ice pick in my thigh. And then he was shooting at you. If you thought I was going to do anything else to that waste of flesh? We need to talk.”

               Quinn stared at you for a moment, before reaching up, fingers light on your cheek, and ducking in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“ _That’s my girl_.”

“Damn straight. Now take me home, hm? Sooner I get cleaned up and stitched up…”

“We are not having sex if you’re getting stitches,” Quinn argued, closing your door and climbing around to the driver’s side.

“Not what I was going to say. Sooner we get home, I get cleaned up and stitched up,  _I can suck your dick._ Don’t gotta worry about my stitches with that, do we?” He blinked at you, as you turned your head and smiled casually at him, something that was just a wild sight considering  _you were covered in blood and matter_.

“…fuck, I love you.”


End file.
